My go-to Comfort Food

My go-to comfort food

My comfort food isn’t food. It’s junk. I know. I’m supposed to eat healthy, and I do, sometimes. But, I’m not much of a meat-eater, so there’s not much else out there but carbs. And of course, I go for the unhealthy carbs, like potatoes, rice, pasta; all those soft and cozy comfort foods.

But sugar is my true love. I have cut back a little. But the only way I can control it completely is when I do intermittent fasting for a few months. That’s how I get clean. And I feel so much better, more energetic and healthier that I promise my doubting self that I’m done with sugar. We broke up, and we’re never getting back together again.

But, like a persistent lover, sugar always manages to wear me down. It promises me that if I just cut back a little, that I’ll be fine. Just eat the recommended portion. Count out six little gummie bears, or eight malted milk balls, and you’ll be completely, one-hundred percent satisfied. Self-control. That’s all it takes.

Self-control? Is there even such a thing these days? I’m an all or nothing woman. Give me the whole bag of caramel chews, or I will go for the throat!

And did I mention ice cream? Don’t even get me started on dairiO Campfire S’mores ice cream. I order three big scoops each time, but I can eat ten. No shame here. I love ice cream. After a hot, sweaty day of mowing for two hours, I can’t wait to head straight to the freezer and grab my fix of whatever sweet little frozen friend is in there.

But I won’t dare mention that I ate a small Domino’s pizza, and an entire box of pull-a-parts, all by myself one evening while binging on Netflix. And I’m never going to mention that I finished all that off with a glass of soda, a box of Milk Duds, and a bag of sweet and sour gummie worms. But I will tell you, that it all came back up as fast as it went down. It was worse than that one time I got drunk just to see what it was like.

Now you know that I’m serious when it comes to my favorite comfort food. There isn’t just one, and I never do anything half-way. But, that last ridiculous, Miss Piggy, pizza and desert episode, made me realize that sugar and I need to break up for good. We need a divorce! But the only way I can see that happening is for everybody and their brother, cousins, aunts, and uncles, and neighbors and friends to stop shoving sweets in my face. And that would mean, no more dairiO! No more pull-a-parts! No more Milk Duds! No more anything! How would I sleep at night knowing all my sweet little friends are gone?